


small favors in high doses

by trite



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe – Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Crack Treated Seriously, Dubious Consent, Healing Sex, Literal Magical Healing Cock, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26268205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trite/pseuds/trite
Summary: “I can heal you,” Poe says impulsively. He’s just full of bad ideas today.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Comments: 8
Kudos: 53





	small favors in high doses

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags. Detailed content notes in endnotes.
> 
> Goes AU sometime after Pryde shoots Hux. Just imagine that at some point before the end of the movie, Poe goes back for Hux for /handwave/ reasons.
> 
> I am (evidently!) not a medical professional; this is not meant to be realistic in any way. I have handwaved many, _many_ things.

Poe returns from the cockpit and kneels down next to Hux. “Kriff, I knew we shouldn’t have left you behind.” 

Poe unclasps his tunic to find protective armor underneath it – presumably the reason Hux is still alive and breathing, if in terrible shape – and underneath that, a singlet. When he lifts it off Hux body, he winces. His chest is a bruised mess. The skin is intact, so Poe doesn’t know what he can do without appropriate supplies and actual medical training. He looks back at the medkit, but a bacta patch is not going to fix this.

“I’m fine,” Hux says, coughing up blood. Poe wants to roll his eyes at him, but the guy’s dying so he gets a pass.

“Don’t talk.” Though he doesn’t know how it could possibly make things worse. “I’m sorry we didn’t take you with us. I should’ve known this would happen.”

“Why do you care,” Hux says, breathing hard.

“Because you helped us. You saved my life and Finn’s and Chewie’s. I owe you.”

“I need–” Hux starts, but is interrupted by another coughing fit. “I need you to–”

Poe leans closer, trying to hear him better. “Tell me. Tell me what you need.”

“I need you to make sure Kylo Ren dies,” Hux says, and rolls on his side to make horrible wheezing noises. Poe flinches back from him.

 _Kriff, this guy would waste his last breath on that,_ Poe thinks, but says, “you got it. Definitely, buddy.” It doesn’t matter what he says, Hux is gonna die anyway.

“That is– the worst part about this,” he says, clearly enjoying the sound of his own voice even at death’s door. “I’m not going to get to see him die.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I always knew it would end like this. I just– didn’t know who would be behind the blaster.” 

Poe turns his face away. He can’t do this. He can’t handle how matter-of-fact Hux is about his inevitable death at the hands of his own people. _He was raised in the Order. This is nothing new to him_ , he reminds himself. But that thought only makes it worse. What matters is that Hux is going to die because he _helped them_. It doesn’t matter why helped them, it still cost him his life. If Poe could –

“I can heal you,” Poe says impulsively. He’s just full of bad ideas today.

“What?”

“I can heal you. I can– yeah. I can heal you,” Poe says, nodding to himself, trying to convince himself to do it.

“How? You have the Force?” Hux says, almost recoiling from him. 

Poe grabs his knee in an attempt to still him. “Don’t move. No, it’s not the Force. It’s–” 

There is a reason he doesn’t tell people about this, there’s a reason he doesn’t do this. It’s great to save someone’s life, but not like _this_. Even ignoring how it makes him feel, (Not great. A little gross, actually.) people treat him differently and then they _talk_. He can’t believe he ever thought this was something to brag about. He’s lucky people just thought he was an obnoxious teenager with a terrible pick up line. “Would you let me heal you?” He’s not going to hold Hux to anything until he gives him all the facts, though.

“Yes, do it.” He wipes his mouth with his hand and shakes a little when he sees it come out bloody.

“I haven’t told you how–”

“I don’t care. I’d even let you use the Force. I– I want to live,” Hux says, like a deeply shameful confession. “I want to outlive them.” But he doesn’t clarify who he means.

When Poe explains it, however, it does not go well. He knows how it sounds, so he can’t blame Hux for his reaction.

“Are you mocking me?” Hux says outraged, with more strength that Poe assumed he currently possessed.

“I’m not. I swear I’m not. I can’t prove it to you, but I’m not trying to take advantage of you. I am–” 

Hux sighs and then coughs. “Even if you are, I don’t care. Do it. At this rate I’ll be dead in the next thirty minutes. I don’t care if this is how you get your fun.”

Kriff, what a fucked up worldview this guy has. “It’s not,” Poe says offended. “Maybe it’s not even necessary. We’ll reach the base in – soon enough, and then I’m sure–”

“Dameron, don’t make me talk you into it.” 

Poe sighs. He rubs his hands over his face and starts looking in the medkit for something he can use. “Have you done this before?” 

“Which part.”

Poe grabs a tube of cream that might work, reads the label and says, “fucking.” What else could he have possibly meant?

Hux laughs humorlessly and coughs for a moment. “No, but now I won’t die not knowing what it’s like.”

Poe winces. He reaches for the fastenings of Hux’s pants and says, “don’t move. I’ll move you.”

Trying to get Hux’s pants off without worsening his injuries is not the easiest task. He tries to work around the blaster wound in his leg, but he figures, all things considered, that one’s not likely to immediately kill him and he’s going to be all healed up soon enough, anyway.

He cuts off the elastic of his underwear with a blade and rips it off him in one movement.

“You’re a savage,” Hux murmurs. He’s lucid enough to keep up with the proceedings so far, which is good because–

“No time to waste. Sorry.”

His vision blurs for a second when he goes to spread Hux’s legs and for a moment he can’t breathe, as if he’s the one with the lethal injuries. _Don’t think about it, don’t think about it_ , he tells himself.

“Dameron,” Hux says, out of breath, but still managing to sound annoyed. “Dameron, don’t make me suffer through your moral crisis in my last minutes on this galaxy. Get it together.”

Now he’s making Hux give him _pep talks_. He really does need to get it together. 

He grabs the cream and Hux says, “don’t bother with that. It won’t hurt more than my injuries.”

He might be right, but Poe’s not willing to fuck him dry on top of everything else. He fingers him for a long moment and is surprised by how quiet Hux is throughout the whole thing, until Poe sees that he’s barely conscious; his eyes opening and drifting shut again.

“Hey. Hey. Hux, stay with me,” Poe says, crawling over him, touching his face. He’s cold and sweaty, unpleasant to the touch.

“I’m fine,” he slurs, blinking repeatedly.

Poe needs to stop stalling. His dick obviously doesn’t get the message or the urgency of the situation, though. He works himself one, twice, three times but feels too panicked to make anything happen.

“What – what are you waiting for? Hurry up already,” Hux snaps. Poe’s actually surprised by how on board Hux is with the whole thing. This or death is not much of a choice, he supposes.

“I’m trying,” he snaps, frustrated and knowing that the more frustrated he gets the less he’ll be able to get hard, which continues the cycle of frustration.

“If you save my life, I’ll suck your dick,” Hux whispers.

“What?” Poe definitely heard that wrong.

“I’ll get on my knees for you. Whenever and wherever you want me to.”

Poe knows Hux is only trying to get him going, and he feels bad about making the guy talk dirty to him on top of everything else, but his brain can conjure a pretty vivid image from Hux’s words and _it’s working_. He’ll feel guilty about it later. He’ll add it to the list. It’s this fucked up situation that’s got him confused.

“It won’t be gratitude, though that will be a – convenient excuse.”

“What?” 

“I’ll want to. I’ll want it.”

 _Fuck._ “Okay, okay,” Poe says lining up. Hux was right – it’s not gonna hurt more than his injuries, so he slides inside without pausing and immediately starts moving, not waiting for Hux’s body to adjust. He keeps it slow and steady, not wanting to jostle Hux’s body too much. Not wanting to make it worse before he has a chance to make it better. He grabs his hips and focuses. _This is going to work, this is going to work._

When Hux starts desperately gasping over and over, he stops. “What’s wrong?” He means, _on top of everything that’s already wrong._

“I can feel it. Keep going. I can feel it working.” It must be true, because when he talks his breathing is less labored. Hux sounds downright amazed.

Poe feels something burn in his eyes and he thinks he’s gonna cry from relief. After a few minutes he can see the bruises on Hux’s chest start to disappear. “You feel better?” He wants to hear Hux confirm it, but mostly he wants to hear Hux. Wants to reassure himself with the sound of his voice. He’d even be willing to hear him spout imperial propaganda right now.

“Yes, _yes_ ,” Hux says panting, though maybe for a different reason this time. His chest is flushed, rising and falling steadily. Poe reaches out to touch him and feels his skin sweaty and warm. He’s never done this with someone who was as injured as Hux and it feels absolutely miraculous. The thought is sickening. 

Hux reaches down and brushes his half-hard cock before moving his hand away and covering his face. “You can move faster now. Come on.”

Poe reaches to touch Hux’s leg and sees that his blaster wound is still intermittently bleeding. He redoubles his efforts and picks up the pace, wanting to get this done with and knowing he doesn’t have to be as careful with Hux’s injuries anymore.

“You have to remind me,” Hux says seriously, looking better – _healthier_ – each second that goes by. 

Poe hovers his hand above Hux’s chest before placing it on top of his heart, feels it beating steadily. “What?”

“The deal we made. What I said. What I offered to do. Take me up on it.”

Poe’s not going to. He’s not ever going to think about it outside of this moment. Poe snaps his hips forward (probably too fast, definitely too hard) and finally comes. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, resting his head on Hux’s shoulder. He doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for anymore.

He carefully pulls out and Hux awkwardly moves his legs to cross them together, so Poe looks away. He puts Hux’s pants within reach and asks, “how are you feeling?”

“Sore.” The ‘in more ways than one’ goes unsaid.

Poe stands up and rushes to the refresher. He dry-heaves over the toilet until he’s certain he’s not going to throw up. He rubs his hands over his face, avoids his reflection in the mirror and goes out to face Hux. He can’t exactly put it off.

Hux has already pulled his pants back on and is struggling with the tiny clasps on his tunic. His hands shaking too badly to manage. When he sees Poe approach he clenches his hands into fists and crosses his arms, his tunic forgotten. “Thank you,” he says, not looking at Poe. There’s some indecipherable emotion in his voice when he says it, but Poe is too frazzled to even attempt to make sense of it.

“Don’t mention it.” And because it needs to be said, “I actually would really appreciate if you _didn’t_ mention it to anyone.”

Hux turns to look at him, frowning. “I won’t. I was not planning on doing that.”

“Come here.” But it has the opposite of the desired effect and Hux takes a step back instead. “Let me help you with that,” Poe says, motioning to Hux’s still open tunic. Hux swallows visibly and reluctantly lowers his arms, stepping closer to Poe.

Buried underneath the panic and disgust, there is some satisfaction at feeling Hux alive and breathing under his hands. He did that. Poe tries to convince himself that it doesn’t matter how he did it.

Hux’s breath hitches every time Poe’s fingers brush against his chest. Poe doesn’t know if it’s out of remaining physical pain and discomfort or a genuine desire to avoid Poe’s touch; he tries not to let it happen either way. “There. All done.”

This time when Hux says ‘thank you’ his hand reaches out and he touches his fingers to the back of Poe’s hand. He moves them back and forth a couple of times, looking down almost confusedly before clasping his hands behind his back.

“What now?” Hux says, putting some distance between them.

“We still have a war to win.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is _technically_ a Fuck or Die situation and as such there are consent issues. While both parties agree to it, they do it because they feel like they have no choice. At one point during sex, a character briefly loses consciousness.
> 
> There is no necrophilia in this fic, but they do have sex while Hux is badly injured. No one dies, though!
> 
> There are vague descriptions of injuries and repeated mentions of blood.


End file.
